I had two encounters with Ted Kennedy. When he hit on my date, that was my second. It may have been William Kennedy Smith with him, the kid looked young, so it's hard for me to say. Same look though.
I grew up in the town of Palm Beach, literally two houses west of the Kennedy compound. Rose Kennedy used to walk down our street every day and say "hi" to us, engage us in conversation, she even invited my sister into her house and gave her a tour once. She told her she could play tennis there any time she wanted. Her caretaker, a guy named "Denny" hung out with all the kids and 20 somethings in town, he just died last year.
When I was a kid, my dad and I used to walk down the beach, I'd run patterns, and he'd throw me the football. My favorite was when I had to leap and make a diving catch into the surf. It was one of those bonding things with your dad that stays with you in your life. One day we saw Ted and his Sterno-guzzling wife Joan walking down the beach, actually holding hands, believe it or not. I know I can be mean to these people, with the exception of Rose, they are and were truly awful. But this was a sweet moment. They stopped and talked to us, no one else was around. No secret service, nobody else on the beach. He told me I was a good football player, which was a lie, and even threw me a pass.
Years later when he hit on my date at Bradley's the thing I noticed was the enormity of the guys head. It had become bloated from years of alcohol abuse, and the contrast of the kind and gentle encounter I had with him and Joan was striking.
I knew the girl William Kennedy Smith raped. Not well, but at the time she was raising a child that was from a very close friend of our family. We spent every Christmas dinner at their house and summers on their private Island in the Bahamas. When the story broke, our entire street was lined with cars from all kinds of press, including the sleazy TV tabloid kind. My dad used to turn the sprinkler on toward their cars. One of them actually got caught going through the garage of the family friend I just mentioned. In truth, it was one of many crappy things the Kennedys did in Palm Beach. They were privileged reprobates. I had a friend who worked at Saks on Worth Avenue. She said they would routinely buy an expensive dress for some gala, then return it the next day with sweat stains in it.
In any case, it sounds like you and I hung out at the same places right around that time. I wonder if we are eskimo brothers, that was one of the funnest periods of my life.